


Not Very Enlightened

by von_gelmini



Series: Prompt Fics [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Blood, Coming Untouched, Daddy Kink, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tony Stark, Rough Oral Sex, Social Media, Top Tony Stark, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 15:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini
Summary: Peter finds out that Tony doesn't share.





	Not Very Enlightened

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever taking and filling a prompt! I hit some of the requests, missed others. Sorry for the ones I missed. The 'blood' tag is just from the kitchen accident.
> 
> trashy-fangirl said to starkerstories:
> 
> the prompt may have shortened so here. What if Peter is cooking but then he hurts himself on accident so Tony babies him for a few days and doesn't let him leave the house. So Peter sneaks out to go to a party with a friend who Tony thinks is a bad influence. Tony sees pictures online of Peter hanging out with some guys and when Peter gets home at 1, slightly tipsy and bratty, Tony goes possessive on him. Tons of Possessiveness. I have a possessiveness kink, Punishment, maybe Edging maybe daddy

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!” Peter was screaming in the kitchen. “Tony!”

Tony came running up the stairs from the workshop. Peter was holding one hand in the other. There was blood. There was  _ a lot _ of blood.

“Shit.” Tony grabbed a towel that was hanging on the oven door and wrapped Peter’s hand. He wasn’t sensitive to the sight of blood, god knows he’d seen enough of it in battle, but the sight of  _ Peter’s _ blood, of his hand cut so deeply that there was spread apart muscle, sliced white tendon, and, fuck, bone, was entirely another thing. Fortunately that battle experience overrode his nausea. He tried to wrap the towel in such a way as to hold the wound shut, unfortunately it was sliced across the entire length of Peter’s palm and didn’t want to hold.

“Hospital,” Tony insisted.

“I heal.” Tears were in Peter’s eyes. “But it hurts!”

Tony grabbed a second towel. “Hold this tight. I’m going to get the suture kit.” He ran down the hall, skidding around the corner on the slick black marble floor. “Shit baby what were you doing?” he asked when he came back.

“Slicing potatoes.” He winced as Tony unwrapped the towels.

Tony looked at the blood covered counter. “That’s a Shun chef’s knife Petey. Sharpest blade out there. Haven’t I told you not to cut toward your hand?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t slicing on the cutting board. It hurts, Tony!”

“It sliced right through your hand.” Tony tried to bring the edges of the skin closer together. “Fuck baby, you need to let me take you to the hospital. I don’t know how to sew up something this deep.”

“Oh god it hurts it hurts it hurts.” Tony curled Peter’s hand half shut to close the palm. “Just sew it shut,” Peter insisted.

Tony struggled with the suture needle. He winced every time Peter screamed when he pushed it went into the flesh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said with every stitch, cursing himself that he hadn’t thought to include novacaine in the kit. Not that it would probably help with something this deep. He had no idea how to sterilize something like this, so he trusted Peter’s healing abilities to take care of infection and germs. He made a dozen stitches. He was sure that wasn’t enough but Peter kept screaming so loud. Tony had Peter curl his hand in and he wrapped it with gauze, running it between each finger and around his wrist, trying to hold everything shut and together. “Even with your healing, that’s gonna take time,” Tony said.

“Yeah.” Peter was pale, shaking, and cold. Tony carried him over to the sofa and covered him with blankets. He took several pillows and supported the boy’s arm to hold it up in the air. The blood was still running down his arm from underneath the bandages.

Tony sat next to Peter on the sofa. He was stroking the boy’s head and looking worried.

“I’ll be okay,” Peter said wanly. His face was almost white.

“Yeah, but you’re not okay now. Is it going to heal the right way? Baby, you cut through some pretty important parts of your hand and I didn’t sew those parts back together.”

“I dunno. I never had a cut this bad.”

“Why won’t you let me take you to the hospital?”

“They aren’t going to know what to do with me and it’s going to expose my identity.” Peter’s voice was soft and his breathing was heavy.

“There’s that hospital that Murdock goes to. Some girlfriend of his works there. She’s handled EIs before.”

“Is she gonna keep my identity a secret?”

“She hasn’t revealed Daredevil’s.”

“How do you know it?”

“I hacked SHIELD’s databases, remember?”

“I’m not going to a hospital.”

“Okay Petey.” 

Tony sat beside Peter still as he called Nelson and Murdock, got the number for the nurse, Claire Temple, and called her. He described Peter’s wound and told her to bring whatever was needed to fix it. She was less than thrilled to be contacted as a resource for one of the Avengers. That was bigger time than she was looking to get involved with. But very few people are able to say no to Tony Stark for long. Tony sent Happy to get her with instructions to ignore any stop lights and she came to Stark Tower.

“Even with what I did,” Claire told Tony after she’d finished stitching Peter’s hand in deeper layers and a lot more skill than Tony had, “it’s going to take a long time to heal.”

“I have a healing factor.”

“I’m taking that into account, Peter. You’re not the first person I’ve dealt with who’s had it.” She turned back to Tony. “The novocaine will wear off soon and it’s going to start hurting again. I don’t have anything that will work, given that he’s just going to reject it with his healing. Keep it elevated, keep it clean, change the bandages regularly, and wait for it to heal itself. That’s pretty much all I can tell you to do.” She headed for the elevator. “And lose my phone number.”

Tony went back to Peter, and lifted him in his arms. “Let’s get you into the bedroom and comfortable.”

Peter wanted to stop off at the bathroom, but objected when Tony wanted to help. “I still have one perfectly functional hand.”

“You’re still dizzy from the blood loss,” Tony explained, insisting on leaving his arm around Peter’s waist, even if he did let the boy take care of everything else on his own. When Peter finished, Tony scooped him up into a bridal carry and took him to the bed. He arranged the pillows under his hand and arm, then covered him the duvet and then with more blankets. That much blood loss, he didn’t want to risk shock, no matter how much the kid argued about healing. He left the TV remote by Peter’s uninjured hand. “I’ll bring you some water. You were fixing dinner, are you hungry?”

“Maybe something lighter than I was fixing before? The potatoes are kinda… bloody? And the blood everywhere… kinda turned my stomach off.”

It took Tony twice as long as it should’ve to fix a simple grilled chicken salad because every ten minutes he went back into the bedroom to check on Peter. He had to keep reminding the boy to keep his arm elevated because it was an uncomfortable position. After feeding Peter ( _ It’s my  _ left  _ hand that’s hurt, I can feed myself! _ ) he went to clean up the kitchen. Tony threw all of his expensive Japanese steel knives into the garbage, ordering a basic kitchen set from Amazon that would be dull enough to not slice the kid’s hand to the bone next time. Before bed, he slid Peter closer to the middle and put one of the wedge pillows from the guest room along the edge of the bed to keep his hand from slipping off the stack of ordinary pillows that his arm was propped up on. He slept close to Peter, putting his arm across his stomach, to keep him from rolling over and de-elevating his hand during the night.

Peter woke several times, moaning in pain, as his hand throbbed. Tony was right there, petting his head, soothing him, until he could fall back asleep.  _ It’s kinda nice having Tony take care of me _ , Peter thought while drifting off after the third time he woke up.

Two days later, he was rethinking his assessment. Tony was right there, all the time. All. The. Time. His hand was knitting itself back together and it  _ hurt _ . Which made Peter irritable. But it didn’t matter how many times he snapped or complained or screamed at Tony to get the fuck away, the man was indulgently patient with him. It was driving Peter nuts.

When Tony changed Peter’s bandage on the fourth day, the bandage was clean. There was still a raw, ragged, only partially closed scar forming. He tried moving his fingers. He could, just barely, and he winced as he did it. Another two or three days, he estimated, then he’d be close to good as new. A few more days after that to finish the job.

“We want to make sure,” Tony said. “I can’t have you losing your grip on one of your webs and falling while you’re swinging.”

“I’m sticky,” Peter argued.

Tony laughed. “Of course you are. But I don’t want you going out until there isn’t even a pink line on your hand.”

“What if I promise no web slinging. I’ve missed a week of class.”

“I’ll have your professors send your work over. That line is still very red and wide.”

It was hard to be mad at someone who was taking such good care of you. Tony had always taken good care of him but this week had been both over-the-top and reassuring at the same time. Though as the line on his palm faded to white and raised, and his fingers could move freely without pain, the over-the-top care was getting… Peter really didn’t mean to be ungrateful, but home was starting to feel more like a prison.

“I want to go back to class.”

“Next week. By then you’ll be healed completely,” Tony said, checking Peter’s hand, feeling the ridge underneath the skin. “I can still feel that the muscles under there aren’t healed yet.”

Peter sighed but accepted Tony’s assessment. He was right, of course. Even though it didn’t hurt to move his fingers, there was still a line from the muscles and tendons healing, which took longer than just skin.

He could put up with missing another week of class and doing the work from home. That was fine, until Peter’s friend Harry texted him about a party on Saturday at his frat. Lots of hot guys who knew how to party. Lots of hot guys who weren’t all 100% straight no matter what they said. It’s not like he and Tony had ever defined their relationship. Not outside of the bed anyway.  _ In  _ bed, Tony was Daddy and Peter was his baby boy. But outside of bed there nothing had been said, not to the level where Peter had to turn down a drunken night with a bunch of hot guys who wouldn’t be opposed to having a no strings attached good time with his cute little self. Get Harry drunk enough and he’d been known to cross to the other side of the street a time or two. And Harry was gorgeous. That one time he was drunk and took Peter to bed… it was memorable to say the least.

Peter didn’t ask permission. He knew what Tony’s answer would be. He packed his party clothes in his backpack, changed into his suit, and left a note on the dining room table. “Be back later. May needs some help. Staying over until tomorrow morning.” It was vague, but hopefully enough to get him a night out of the penthouse. 

He swung off the helipad and made his way toward campus. He dropped down and changed clothes in an alley. Then he pinned his backpack to the underside of a fire escape with a knot of webbing.

It was hard for him to get drunk with his spidey metabolism, but there was never a shortage of liquor at a frat party. Drink enough Everclear fast enough, and even Spider-Man could get wasted.

Though not wasted enough not to recognize what he’s doing. Harry was there with his girlfriend, so he wasn’t not a possibility that night. Didn’t mean there weren’t other possibilities. People were snapping pictures left right and center, of everybody and everything. Including Peter hanging off the shoulders of three different guys over the course of the night. One of which wasn’t opposed to taking him upstairs.

“You are  _ not _ putting my ass up on Instagram!” Peter said laughing.    


“Why not? It’ll be the best ass ever on the website.”

“Well you are not putting it up with my face attached to it.” Peter buried his head underneath the pillow.

“Yeah, but I’m putting it up with my dick inside it. Come get me hard with your mouth. I’ll make sure to keep most of your face out of the picture. No one will recognize you.”

“Oh fuck me,” Peter moaned, letting his inhibitions fall with another gulp of some kind of liquor, something brown this time, straight out of the bottle.

After a perfunctory bit of cocksucking, the guy, whose name Peter had no idea of, prepped him quickly and started fucking him. It wasn’t great but Peter was drunk and it wasn’t exactly bad either. Okay, maybe it was better than not half bad. The guy teased Peter about trying to moan his name and not knowing it. He said his name was Jonathan and Peter groaned it loudly. He still kept his face hidden, but the moans and whimpers and plaintive urgings on came out clearly from underneath the plump fiberfill. As did the obscene sound of him coming. Followed by Jonathan doing the same, deep inside Peter’s ass.

Peter was sober by the time he gracefully swung back onto the helipad and tiptoed into the penthouse. Rather than risk climbing into Tony’s bed, he went downstairs to the lab. It wasn’t unusual that one or the other of them stayed up late or got up early with a sudden burst of inspiration. He waited until he smelled coffee brewing before heading upstairs.

“Late night Petey?”

“Yeah. I got an idea.”

“Is that what it’s called? An idea?” Tony flicked his phone in the direction of the windows. They turned into a large screen plastered with dozens of social media pictures.

“No, it’s called a prison escape. I’m allowed to go out to have a good time with my friends. I knew you’d never let me,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“Looks like you had a very good time.” The video started playing. 

“That’s not me.”

“Oh please.” Tony turned up the volume. “That mark right above the dimple of your ass? That’s not you?”

Peter hadn’t noticed that Tony managed to sneak up behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t turn around to look at the man. “So it’s me. So what?”

Tony reached a hand up into Peter’s hair and pulled him back against his chest. “So what? You’re mine.” Tony ran his hand over Peter’s chest, wrapping his arm around it, holding him tight. “ _ That’s  _ so what.”

Peter pulled away. It took a bit of his spidey strength, but he did it. He backed away from Tony, but that put him against the window where all the pictures were displayed, where the video was still running on loop. “Since when am I yours?” he spat back.

“Since you put your ass in my bed and asked me to fuck it.” He boxed Peter in with his arms.

“Yeah, but you never said…”

“Did you think I would  _ share _ ?”

“That’s not very enlightened.”

“If you wanted enlightened, you should’ve parked this ass…” Tony slipped his hands down to grab Peter’s ass. “…In his bed before mine.”

“I don’t even know who he was!” The video got to the point where Peter was moaning the other guy’s name. “Jonathan, but no idea Jonathan who. I’ve never met him before.”

Tony pushed his knee between Peter’s legs to hold him pinned against the glass while he swiped his finger across the display. “Jonathan Bennett. 5324 Davis. Pre-law. Not gonna make it to Harvard, Jonathan, not with those grades. Girlfriend, Renee Andrews.” Tony tsked. “Cheating on your girlfriend. Not classy Jonathan. What are we going to do with you, Jonathan?” 

“You wouldn’t!” Peter’s eyes went wide.

“Why wouldn’t I? He touched what’s mine.”

“Tony! Don’t!” He absolutely wasn’t humping Tony’s knee between his legs. He absolutely wasn’t turned on by the idea of Tony doing something to his one-night-stand. Because he was that possessive. And he was Tony fucking Stark. Who didn’t share. What was his. And  _ his  _ was Peter.

“Are you mine, Peter?” Tony leaned in to where the length of their bodies were almost touching.

“I don’t know, Tony? Am I yours?”

Tony scrolled the recording back to about mid-way. “That’s a good question. You hear that sound you made? Right there? And that one? The breathless way you moaned his name? I thought those sounds were mine. Apparently they aren’t.”

“I was drunk.”

“Oh. Okay. So I guess I can start drinking and call…I don’t know…” Tony shrugged. “Whoever this month’s Calvin Klein model is. I’m sure with a little motivation he can suck cock as well as you do. Probably better, judging by the pitiful attempt you did to make Jonathan hard enough to fuck you. You weren’t too drunk for that.” 

“I was so drunk I didn’t even know which guy I went upstairs with.”

“Not exactly reassuring, Petey. So eager to share what’s mine that you didn’t care with whom.” Tony brought the lower half of their bodies together, pushing his knee down and settling his thigh against Peter’s crotch.

“It was just a party! You were keeping me prisoner in here. I knew you wouldn’t let me go.”   


“You’re right. I was worried about your hand.” Tony scrolled the video farther back. “You’re hand’s healed enough to grab Jonathan’s dick and help it find the ass I thought was mine.” Tony mocked the way Peter said it, “‘I was drunk’.” Then he paused, pushing his arms back until they were straight and his upper body was away from Peter’s. He stared at the boy’s face and waited until Peter’s gaze was locked with his. “You weren’t too drunk to let him come inside you.”

“God Tony! You don’t own me!” 

Tony snorted. “Obviously.”

“You never said we were exclusive.”

He brought their upper bodies together and pressed Peter hard against the window. He whispered in a low growl in Peter’s ear. “At what point before you were drunk enough to become the campus slut did you think  _ I  _ would be willing to share  _ you _ ?”

Peter was mad at himself that a moan escaped him and that his hips moved against Tony’s thigh. “You have no right…” The man’s breath was hot against his neck.

“Who plopped their half naked ass in my bed?” Tony’s lips brushed across Peter’s neck as he spoke. He felt Peter shudder. Hands on the glass, he pushed himself away from the boy and took two steps back. He shrugged. “I guess you’re plopping it back out again.” He walked away. While Peter was stunned, he poured himself a drink and went to sit in his favorite chair. “Have fun with Jonathan and… whoever.”

“Tony…” Peter meant to keep the argumentative tone to his voice, but instead there was a plaintive whine and he drew out Tony’s name into a plea.

“What? Do you have a problem remembering which direction the elevator’s in?

Peter closed his eyes and huffed a deep sigh. He went over to where Tony was sitting, dropped down to his knees between the man’s feet and rested his head on his thigh. “I’m sorry Daddy.”

Tony put the flat of his hand on Peter’s forehead and pushed until the boy was backed away, sitting on his heels. He took a sip of his drink and set it on the glass table beside the chair. “Since you were unclear before, let me make things clear. I do  _ not _ share. I don’t share your kiss. I don’t share your hands. I don’t share your touch. I don’t share your skin. I don’t share your glances or your stares. I don’t share your mouth. And I don’t share that ass.” He paused with what he knew was dramatic effect. “With anyone. Ever. The next time will be the  _ last _ time.”

Peter closed his eyes and attempted to pretend that Tony’s manner, Tony’s voice and what Tony said didn’t turn him on. The half hard cock in his jeans put a lie to that attempt. He slid on his knees up to Tony, sitting in the chair. 

Tony brought his legs closer together, pressing them against Peter’s arms. “FRIDAY, begin recording.” He looked down at Peter with a questioning eyebrow. “Have you decided who you belong to?”

“Yes Daddy,” Peter said, looking up.

“Good.” Tony reached down and unbuckled his belt. He left the rest for Peter to do.

Peter unbuttoned the button on Tony’s slacks. He slid the zipper down. He spread the fly open, reached in, and pushed the waistband of his silk boxers down below his balls. He nuzzled his face against the base of it. “Daddy,” he sighed softly, breathing in Tony’s scent. Having decided who he belonged to, he stopped worrying about his reactions. His hips squirmed, his cock was hard, and his jeans grew tighter.

Tony looked down at the state Peter was in. “You can unzip and take your cock out, but no touching yourself, baby boy.”

“Yes Daddy.” Peter did as he was allowed then bent his head down to Tony’s soft cock. Not using his hands, Peter filled his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, tugging Tony’s still soft cock along its length. Each time he did that, he felt it thicken, each time filling his mouth wider, then filling it deeper. Peter took him in until he felt him hitting the back of his mouth. He pulled off and sucked around the head of Tony’s cock, his tongue dancing lightly around it, teasing the ridge, licking the slit, tasting nothing but his spit and the texture of skin. Not what he was expecting. But the man wasn’t easy and somehow had the ability to make himself absolutely difficult if he was in the mood to make Peter work for it.

Peter had no such self restraint. His own cock was achingly hard and he could feel beads of wetness forming on the tip. Sucking Tony’s cock like this, on his knees, while the man was still fully clothed did something to him. It was even better when he was totally naked in comparison. Peter unbuttoned his shirt, the shirt he was still wearing from the night before, that smelled of stale cigarette smoke, spilled alcohol, and someone whose name he was rapidly forgetting. Tony said nothing to stop him so he shirked out of it. He heard a small, encouraging sound made in his direction. Without taking his mouth off of Tony, he raised himself higher and pushed his jeans down. He lifted one leg and then the other as he brought them below his knees. Tugging at the waistband with his toes, he managed to get them down and off completely. Peter settled back down and feeling the legs of Tony’s trouser-clad thighs against his arms, his calves against the side of his body and his hips, Peter clenched his ass, squirmed his hips, and moaned around Tony’s cock.

“Good boy,” Tony said. Peter heard him lift the glass off the table, take a sip, then set it back down. He let Peter suck on him, only taking half of his length into his mouth, stopping when he pressed against the back of it, pulling off again after, using his tongue to distract. Peter raised his hands to Tony’s thighs and Tony pushed them away. “Behind your back.” Peter put them where he was told. He let the boy do what he had been doing for a little while longer. “You might get away with a half assed blowjob on Jonathan’s little dick but I expect you to get Daddy’s thick cock all the way down your throat.”

Peter’s cock twitched and he cast his eyes downward to see a thread of pre-come run from his slit to a little puddle on the floor.

“Uh unh. Focus baby boy. You don’t get to take care of that thing until you’ve taken care of Daddy.”

He reached up again with his hand and Tony smacked it away hard. “If I want a handjob I’ll go in the shower and take care of myself. Don’t make me tell you a third time. You’ve used up my tolerance for ‘brat’ with last night’s stunt, baby boy.”

It was more difficult. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t use his hands on Tony’s shaft to make him come more easily. It helped when he had his hands to guide Tony down his throat. When he could better manage the speed and depth Tony wanted when the man got to the point where he was  _ taking _ and not just letting Peter give. He hadn’t  _ never  _ done it with his hands behind his back, but it was more difficult. And Tony knew that. And he hated himself just a little for liking that Tony knew that. That he was so easy to control. And he  _ really _ hated the fact that he moaned around Tony’s cock right then. And that low little chuckle that the man gave when he noticed? Hated hated  _ hated _ that.

Not really.

Not at all.

Peter felt Tony hit the back of his mouth and instead of pulling back, he swallowed. He held the man’s cock there as long as he could, letting his throat become thick with saliva. When he slid back off and took him again, he swallowed harder and Tony went deeper.

“That’s better, baby boy. C’mon. Show Daddy what my boy’s talented mouth can do when given a challenge.”

He felt his cock throb at the sound of Tony’s voice. One more thing he hated. So much! He hated that he responded to just the sound of his voice. He hated that Tony knew it. Only he loved that it meant something more now. It meant he was Tony’s. Not just someone Tony took to bed… whenever. But someone who  _ belonged _ to the man. Okay, maybe he hated that too. Yep. Hated all of it.

That’s why his hips couldn’t stay still and he worked his throat twice as hard to get more of Tony’s cock down it. Because he hated it  _ so much _ . 

“Oh my silly boy. Thinking that some college twink could ever satisfy you like your Daddy does. Go on. I know you can do better than that.”

It would’ve helped if Tony did what he usually did at this point and start doing that whole ‘taking’ thing. But no. Of course he didn’t. That would make it easier. He wasn’t interested in making it easier. And that didn’t turn Peter on at all. No it didn’t. Didn’t turn him on so much that he was pushing himself right to his limits. Making himself choke around his Daddy’s thick cock. Pushing himself to the point of bringing tears to his eyes, feeling his chin get wet with drool, listening to the obscene wet sounds as his head bobbed up and down Daddy’s cock. And hearing that absolutely slutty filthy moan coming from… somewhere. Not from him. Certainly not from him.

Oh but that long drawn out growl. That came from his Daddy. Those fingers clutching, white-knuckled, on the arm of the chair, struggling to keep themselves from tangling in Peter’s hair… those were Daddy’s. And when he took Daddy’s cock all the way down and held him there in the tight hot depth of his throat… those heavy, catching breaths were  _ definitely _ Daddy’s. 

He looked up, heavy lidded, watching Tony’s face, watching him panting, slack mouthed, lips wet, eyes… oh fuck… eyes not closed but fixed on his, dark almost black, fierce, possessive only with his stare… 

Peter had gotten close to coming just from sucking cock before. With a little help from his hand. It didn’t even take much help. But it always took some.

“Go on Petey,” Tony’s voice was low and thick. “Show me who you belong to. Show me who you  _ need  _ to belong to. Mine. Only mine. I don’t fuckin’ share.” Tony’s hand came off the arm of the chair, tangled hard in Peter’s hair, and pulled his head down onto his cock, holding it there until he felt Peter’s throat tighten, gagging, choking.

Peter came, painting long streaks of white on Tony’s black marble floor.

Tony pulled Peter off, held him there as he stroked himself quickly a few times and came on Peter’s face. His fingers let go of the boy’s hair, letting Peter fall back to kneeling down on his heels. “Mine Peter.”

“Yours Daddy,” Peter said, panting heavily, staring up at Tony with adoration.

“End recording. FRIDAY, deliver that to Jonathan Bennett. Make sure the address line has my name. Message: ‘Mine’.”

“Oh my god. He’ll show it to  _ everybody _ ,” Peter said, mortified.

“You should’ve thought about that before making me have to prove who you belong to.”

“Yes Daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> My Starker blog on tumblr is [starker-stories](https://starker-stories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit.  

> 
> * * *
> 
> Okay, pulling this out of the comments because it amuses me.
> 
> **TheWolfFearsHer asked: **  
Would love to see Jonathan’s reaction
> 
> **To which I replied:**  
Gotta admit its one hell of a way to come out that your boyfriend is Tony Stark/Iron Man. :) Especially given the way Tony's sex tapes wind up all over the internet so this one wouldn't just spread around campus. I think poor Jonathan would spend at least a few weeks waiting for Iron Man to fly him into the sky and drop him from a very high place for having dared touch what was his.
> 
> And I have an image of Tony later on, when the business has blown over and everyone's forgotten, arranging to have a reason to be at some official college something or other, and he's meeting an innocuous bunch of undergrads and Jonathan is in amongst a whole row of others he's shaken the hand of and Tony'd be like... 'Pleased to meet you, what was your name again, _Jonathan_?' and watch the kid practically shit himself. And Peter would be like, 'Daddy that was mean!' while desperately trying not to laugh.


End file.
